You know that guy, right? Opera house in the jungle? Crazy Conquistador dude?
Not him.THIS Klaus Kinski is an equally scary proposition, but in a very different way. This Klaus Kinski is a band, only they’re more like a handful of rotting horse entrails being shoved into your face (I mean that in a good way… kinda…). They’re like being waterboarded with hot piss while being yelled at by one of the “clients” from Hostel. (Probably the one with the blowtorch who takes that chick’s eye out, but it could equally be the creepy dude from the train). They’re like being beaten up by psychopaths during the best punk gig you ever saw, and you can still hear the band as you lose consciousness. They’re like the musical equivalent of Srpski Film, only the version you have to steal off the internet rather than the legal one that actually got a couple of showings over here. By which I mean they’re both disturbing and brilliant.
They are, in short, a very frightening prospect indeed. If their live shows aren’t utterly terrifying, I’ll be hideously disappointed. I’m expecting carnage and mayhem (not the bands, obviously, though that would be a good lineup, assuming Carnage aren’t shit. I don’t know. Mind you, a quick Google has just showed me that there used to be a band actually called Carnage Mayhem, with the bloke from Muse in. Well I never. I bet they don’t sound like this, though. Not a lot really does).To be honest, writing this review’s kind of difficult, because it’s hard to try to be clever and funny when someone (in this case, Klaus Kinski) has already beaten you by having a song called “(Don’t Get Caught) Wanking At The Witch Trials.” It’s like trying to write a satirical piece about Jonathan Swift.
OK, remember Hunting Lodge? The much-missed, awesome Hunting Lodge (the UK one)? Before I heard them, they were described to me as a cross between The Birthday Party and Big Black, which wasn’t far off the mark. Klaus Kinski remind me a TINY bit of Hunting Lodge, only they’re more like a cross between The Birthday Party and Whitehouse. Actually, imagine if Whitehouse were a rock band instead of a power electronics act, and you’re almost halfway towards Klaus Kinski. It’s all there – the screaming, the serial killers, the sexual violence and violent sex, the sheer fucking NOISE of the thing- only there are like drums and guitars and stuff.Another useful reference point might possibly be legendary Lovecraftian anarcho-punks Rudimentary Peni. Yeah, that’s probably a good one. Try juggling Rudimentary Peni, The Birthday Party and Whitehouse for a while. Then throw them at the wall and break them into tiny bits, all of which are ANGRY, like if Charlie Manson had had nanobots instead of hippies. Or something like that. Right. Once you’ve done all that, crank the volume up to full and punch yourself in the bollocks (or other more appropriate or less gender-specific part of the anatomy) repeatedly. And then start pogoing. THAT’s what Skelington Horse is like. Apart from the closer, “12345678”, which is an epic piece of gothy, sludgey doom-punk (doom-punk? What the FUCK am I on about now???) which is a bit like doing acid with HP Lovecraft, and getting REALLY freaked out by his weird chin and tentacle obsession.
(I like it a lot, in case I hadn’t made that clear- what with all the “punching yourself in the bollocks” stuff, I could see how it could be a little confusing).
-DEUTERONEMU 90210, who’s a bit scared now-